


Fever Pitch

by perniciousLizard



Series: Fired Up and Bone Weary [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Original Character(s), Post-Pacifist Route, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 20:17:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6208591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perniciousLizard/pseuds/perniciousLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sans shows up at Grillby’s, only to find it closed.  When a quick text message doesn’t get an answer, Sans goes to investigate.  Sickfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Closed Until Further Notice_

The sign on the door into Grillby’s took Sans by surprise.  He wasn’t the only one loitering outside, confused by the sign and not sure what to do about it, but he was the only one who should have known it was going to be there.  

He leaned against the wall by the door and sent off a quick text to Grillby.

_what’s up_

He waited, but after ten minutes he still hadn’t gotten an answer.  That wasn’t a huge deal, except the “until further notice” part of the note was digging at him.  That wasn’t a note you left when your niece stopped by unexpectedly and you had to take her out for dinner.  That was more “death in the family” or “horrible illness.”  

Sans walked around back and climbed up the stairs to Grillby’s apartment.  His bony knuckles made him a champion at loud knocking.  

It didn’t get him inside, but it did get him some kind of answer.  His phone buzzed.  

_Don’t come in.  I’m sick._

It was too easy for Sans to just go inside, past the locked door, and check on him.  He forced himself not to do it.  

_what is it?  you finally catch what me and paps got?_

_Not that.  It’s a regular flu._

_need me to call tori over?_

_No._

Grillby was being kind of a _pill,_ but Sans supposed he couldn’t blame him.  Sans was used to being sick, and when it wasn’t too bad it was a great excuse just to stay in bed forever, but Grillby was someone who  _wanted_ to get out of bed.

_need me to pick up anything?  you say something and i’ll leave you alone for a while so you should think it through before you say no_

It took a while for San’s phone to buzz, this time, to the point when he was wondering if he should just go.  This was one of those times when Sans was pretty sure Grillby needed a better boyfriend –- someone who’d break in and bake him a quiche and make sure his fever wasn’t too…

Wait, how did fevers work, for fire monsters?

His phone interrupted his thoughts.

_I am missing a few things._

The list Grillby sent looked like busywork to keep Sans from bugging him, but Sans had suggested the idea in the first place so he took a quick trip to the store.  When he got back, balancing the grocery bag on his hip bone, Grillby wasn’t responding to his text messages.  This time, though, he was carrying a clear excuse to waltz in and be nosy.

_i’ve got everything so i’m coming in_

He waited a second and took a shortcut directly into Grillby’s kitchen.

The heat hit him the instant he was on the other side of the door. Grillby was nowhere to be seen, but it was still like a sauna.  Sans set the wilting grocery bag on the counter.

The apartment had three rooms.  There was the one he was in, which was a kitchen/dining room/living room combination, with a half wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the space.  If Grillby wasn’t in the fridge or under the couch, he was either in his bedroom or in the bathroom that he used for storage.  

The increasing temperature as he walked towards the bedroom confirmed it. He rapped on the door.  "hey.  grillbz.  you all right in there?“

” _ **I’m fine.**_ “

Grillby’s voice sounded strange and loud, like air rushing past his ear holes. The temperature in the room ticked up another notch and Sans wondered, for the first time in his life, if Grillby could be a threat to him.  

"i left your stuff in the kitchen.”  Maybe he should take Grillby’s word on being fine and get out of there.  

“ _ **Just give me a minute**_.”

The temperature started to inch downwards.  Sans went over and opened the window in the kitchen.  He let the significantly cooler air hit his overheated bones.

He walked back over to the bedroom door and knocked again.  

“…you can come in.”  

The doorknob was burning hot.  He would probably be all right, but Sans wrapped his sleeve around his fingerbones before he turned it, just in case.  

He’d never seen Grillby’s bedroom before.  It was sort of a mess -– the sheets on the bed were partially off and rumpled and there were a few dirty plates stacked on Grillby’s side table.  It smelled _awful_ , like rotten eggs and choking black smoke.  

Grillby was sitting shirtless in the middle of the floor, on a rumpled blanket.  He was surrounded by a haze that Sans recognized as a magical barrier; probably a heat shield.  He didn’t seem to be keeping himself together too well, and was hunched over, not really looking at Sans.  

Sans squatted outside the barrier.  "hey grillbz.  you’re not looking so hot."  

Grillby’s hands, barely resembling them, came up and covered his face.  "……"

"yeah. ok.  sure you don’t want a doctor?”

“……no.”

“sandwich?”

“.........yes.”

Sans grunted and got back onto his feet.  He went into the kitchen, leaving the bedroom door open behind him, and started assembling a sandwich from what he’d bought and what Grillby had around.  He paused, halfway through, and sent off a quick message.

_hey tori you ever take care of a sick fire monster_

She responded almost immediately, asking about symptoms and telling him what she knew.  She said it sounded troublesome, but not serious.  

_Normally, I would make sure a sick monster had plenty to drink and nutrient-rich snail broth to eat.  That will not help here.  If he seems to get worse, of course contact me immediately.  And please keep me updated regardless!_

_ok_

He brought the plate back into Grillby’s bedroom and pushed the sandwich through the barrier.  It immediately started to look a little crispy, and Grillby was staring at it like he wasn’t sure it was really food.  Sans got up and walked around the room until he spotted where Grillby had dropped his phone.  It hadn’t melted, and it still turned on.  Grillby didn’t notice Sans picking it up and fussing with it.  He didn’t even seem to notice when Sans left the room with it.

He made the mistake of checking for a name, first, and then found what he was looking for when he searched for “mom.”  

_hey it’s your best pal sans here_

_Why do you have his phone?_

_grillbz’s not feeling so hot and i wanted to ask you something_

_Is he ill?_

_yeah but he says he’s ok_

_He isn’t trying to work, is he?_

_nah he’s resting.  you could say he’s ill, at ease_

_Give him this phone back.  I am going to call._

_wait just a sec._ _is there something special you’d do if you were here_

_When Grillby was a child and ill I would collect molten rock and shape it so that it resembled a slice of pie.  Like my own mother did._

_not sure how i’d transport that_

_Yes, it would most likely turn you to dust._

_welp thanks anyway_

_I can send you a recipe for a “drink” I used to make._

Those were some ominous quotation marks.   _sure_

Grillby already had all the ingredients for it–a couple Sans had picked up at the grocery store, like Grillby had been planning to make it for himself.  

He carried the “drink” and Grillby’s phone back into the bedroom.  Grillby was still sitting up, but his legs were pulled up against his chest and his head was resting on his knees.  He almost blended together, and it was tough to make out his shape.  Sans couldn’t tell if he’d eaten any of the sandwich, since what was left on the plate was burnt to almost nothing.  

“hey. brought you something.”  

Grillby looked up.  Despite everything, what made him look strangest to Sans was that he wasn’t wearing his glasses.  

Sans knelt next to him and slid the cup through the barrier.  The more liquid parts of the drink started to steam and then, poof, the contents of the glass started on fire.  Grillby watched this with interest and picked up the “drink,” downing the contents. It made him cough, and he covered his face.  

“…where did you find that recipe?” he asked, after a minute, his voice quiet.  

Sans shrugged.  "internet?“  He held up Grillby’s phone.  "nah. by the way, i kind of screwed up and your mom’s probably calling you later.”  He didn’t regret it but there was no way Grillby wasn’t going to be a little annoyed.  

Grillby looked up, saw Sans holding his phone, and covered his face again. “…I haven’t spoken to her since that wedding.”

Sans hadn’t known that.  "welp.  my bad.“  Grillby’s relationship with his family mystified him.  He set the phone on the floor.  "so, what else you need?”  

He sighed, a long hiss.  "……I need you to _leave_.“

"oh. ok?”  

“I can’t do anything but try not to hurt you until you’re _gone_.” He hissed, again, holding his head.  "Go _away_ , Sans.“  

Sans could take a subtle hint, so he stood up.  "all right.”  That had actually hit a little harder than it should’ve.  Grillby had a point, and when it came down to it, Sans hadn’t done much to actually help.  Maybe he had really messed up.

Grillby looked pretty terrible and Sans guessed he’d let himself get a little worried about it.  Sans always had Papyrus to nag at him and fuss over him when he was sick, but Grillby was pretty isolated.  Since it looked like Grillby would get better on his own, this was just another time when it would have been better to do nothing.  

“just throw me a bone and shoot a text my way when you’re up to it,” Sans said.  

“Sans. I’m sorry, I’m not…I’m not myself right now.”  

“nah, don’t worry about it.  i’m being a _numbskull_ , and i crossed some  _bone-dries.”_ He snickered.  "see you later, grillbz.“

”…“ Grillby looked at him, a picture of burning misery.  

Just as Sans reached the door, ready to take a shortcut, he heard Grillby’s phone go off.  Sans winced and took the direct route back home.  

 

\--

 

“YOU SO RARELY HAVE DINNER HERE, ANYMORE, OF COURSE I AM GOING TO MAKE SOMETHING SPECIAL!”  Papyrus was gone in a flash and was back before Sans had time to call anything after him.  He returned carrying an armload of boxes of pasta -– all the different special shapes that Papyrus had found and added to his impressive collection.  "YOUR KIND-HEARTED AND GENEROUS BROTHER WILL LET YOU CHOOSE THE PASTA OF THE EVENING!"  He dumped about twenty boxes on the couch, next to Sans.

"oh. wow.  you’re the best, bro.”  He was a little overwhelmed with options.  There were the standard shapes, and then obvious ones like the alphabet or zoo animals, and then it got into cartoon characters and so on.  He dug through the pile, knowing that it would disappoint Papyrus if he didn’t pick anything, until he found one that was dog themed with paw shapes, mini-dogs, and, most importantly, _bone shapes._ He chuckled and handed the box to Papyrus.  

His brother nodded in approval and went into the kitchen with it.  

“IF YOU HAD ENOUGH OF GREASE,” Papyrus yelled while he cooked, “YOU SHOULD NOT FEEL OBLIGATED TO EAT AT GRILLBY’S!  YOU CAN ALWAYS JUST VISIT AND EAT HERE OR ANYWHERE ELSE!”

“how’s a skeleton supposed to run if you don’t put oil in its engine?” Sans asked.  "nah, grillby’s just out for a few days.  he caught a bug.“  

"IT’S NO WONDER, SPENDING ALL HIS TIME IN SUCH UNHEALTHY CONDITIONS.”  Papyrus leaned against the door frame into the living room.  He looked considering.  "THOUGH, MAYBE FIRE MONSTERS HAVE DIFFERENT DIETARY NEEDS AND I AM BEING CULTURALLY INSENSITIVE.“

Sans shrugged.  "his mom gave me a cold cure that’s three kinds of alcohol and then you just dump in hot sauce until the glass is full.”

“WELL, ANY MONSTER WOULD NOT CARE ABOUT BEING SICK AFTER THEY DRANK THAT,” Papyrus pointed out.  "WHY ARE YOU HERE?  YOU SHOULDN’T BE LAZY ABOUT TAKING CARE OF YOUR SICK BOYFRIEND!“  

"oh. he, uh, smoked me out.”  Sans turned on the television.  He didn’t really want to talk about Grillby.  

Papyrus pushed aside the boxes of pasta and sat directly next to Sans.  "TELL ME WHAT THAT MEANS."  

"uh. it’s a saying that–”

“I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS, GENERALLY!  SPECIFICALLY, WAS THERE–”  He paused and looked over Sans, thinking.  "–WAS THERE SOME KIND OF _BONE OF CONTENTION?“_

"oh man.”  Sans covered his mouth.  "oh _man_. that was too good, paps."

"I KNOW!  SO NOW YOU HAVE TO TELL ME EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED!”  

“yeah, you got me, i guess.”  It was tough to deny Papyrus anything, really.  "nah, no fight.  he had a fever and it was getting kind of toasty in there, so he tossed me out before i got hurt."  

"SO WHO IS THERE TO MAKE SURE HE DRINKS HIS HORRIBLE HOT SAUCE CURE?  NO WONDER YOU ARE WORRIED.”  

“nah, i’m sure it’s fine.  not like he’s never been sick by himself before.”  

“THAT MAKES IT EVEN WORSE!”

“yeah.” It really did, when he thought about it.  There wasn’t anyone around who could take care of Grillby when he was that kind of sick.  Anyone who tried to help just made him worry about their well-being instead of his own.  Tori had pretty high HP and was great with fire magic -– maybe he should have tried to convince her to give Grillby a checkup.  

“AT LEAST HE HAS HIS MOTHER,” Papyrus decided, as he got up from his couch.  

“nah. i talked to her so she knows, but grillbz’s still giving her the _cold shoulder_.”

“…WAS THAT A JOKE BECAUSE HE IS SICK, OR BECAUSE HE IS FIRE?” Papyrus stalled halfway to the kitchen.  

“oh man you’re right there are _two_ reasons why that was a great joke.”  

Papyrus groaned.  

“i guess you could say he’s being… _hotheaded_.”

“SANS!!”  Papyrus marched out.  He returned a minute later, holding a colander of dog spaghetti in his unnecessary but stylish oven mitts.  “…MAYBE THIS IS NOSY, BUT WHY IS GRILLBY FIGHTING WITH HIS MOTHER?”

“i don’t think you have it in you to be nose-y, bro.”  

“THANK YOU.  I ALWAYS STRIVE TO BE POLI–”  Papyrus broke off, stared at Sans for a minute in cold fury, and walked back into the kitchen.  Papyrus was going to exhaust himself walking back and forth like that.  

A few seconds later, he popped back into the living room and cleared all the pasta boxes off the sofa to make a spot for himself.  He always grumbled about how they had a table to eat at but Sans always ate in front of the TV, but when Sans was there, he sat with him anyway.  

Because he was the best brother a skeleton could ask for.  

 

–-

 

He thought of it as a fever, but Grillby didn’t feel hot.  He felt out of control.  

Sometimes, everything was so cold he just wanted to let himself grow and grow until everything was consumed by him and finally, _finally_ , he could be warm again.  

It had been years since he had been this sick.  His bedroom was a meaningless haze.  Time seemed to pass in a blink, and then it dragged on and on, every aching, struggling moment drawn out.

He remembered that Sans had been there and he had been kind and worried, and he had snapped at him.  He was glad he had, because then Sans had left and gone someplace safe.  

He remembered speaking to his mother, for the first time since the wedding.  He didn’t remember what he said.  He was worse, getting worse, but he just had to live with it, bear down on himself and hold himself in place until his fever broke.  

In a moment of near-lucidity and control, he found his glasses and phone and saw he had three missed messages from his mother.  There were texts from Papyrus and one each from Toriel and Red Bird.  He tried to read them, but the words swam and he started to worry that he was going to break the phone.  He shoved it away.  

After a while, he noticed a constant rapping noise in the distance.  It didn’t sound like Sans’ knock.  

He pulled himself together a little and called out for them to come in, but he remembered that the door was locked and if it was anyone but Sans, they weren’t getting in without breaking the door.  He got to his feet and went to find out who it was.

 

–-

 

Sans had made sure his phone was on and his ringer was on, so he wouldn’t miss a message, but the only ones he’d gotten had been from Tori and Frisk.  He tried to distract himself with routine, but Grillby’s was part of the routine.

_the bar’s still closed so what about an update on how you’re doing_

It was a few hours before he got a response.  

_My fever broke.  You should come over._

Not, “come over if you want” or, “it’s safe for you to come back?”  There was an ominous edge to it, but it probably didn’t mean anything.  It wasn’t worth worrying about, anyway.  Grillby had made it through the worst of his illness, so Sans could quit worrying about him being sick and alone locked up behind a heat barrier in his apartment.  

_sure thing_

_When you have the time, I mean._

Sans considered for a minute, and then sent: _hey always got time for you grillbz_

_Thank you._

Sans was slightly embarrassed–he wished he’d followed that up with a joke.  Or, wait, he could have asked if Grillby wanted him to bring food over, and then said he’d always have _thyme_ for him.  That would have been the best joke he’d made all day.  He couldn’t even fix it by bringing a container of herbs with him, because Grillby could literally read how he spelled the word.  

His phone went off again, interrupting his thoughts.

_I should warn you._

Sans chuckled when he read that.  He had no idea if Grillby was going to make a joke, say something actually alarming, or just say that his apartment was a mess, which Sans already knew.

Grillby just had his dramatic text message pauses.  Sans’ favorite was when he sent, “Sans, I need something from you” and twenty minutes later he continued with “If you’re going to the store, anyway, would you pick up some wine?”

This pause was only a few seconds long.

_My mother is here._

Actually alarming it was, then.  

Sans hovered over the phone keypad.  She must have shown up because she knew Grillby was sick, and she only knew he was sick because of Sans. He probably should feel guilt instead of relief.  Well, he did hope he hadn’t made things worse between them.

_that’s probably my_ _**fault** _ _. i’m_ _**quaking** _ _thinking about the two of you_ _**erupting** _ _and there being a permanent_ _**rift** _ _after all the_ _**stress** _ _and_ _**strain** _ _from not talking.  i’m at the_ _**epicenter** _ _so i hope that the_ _**core** _ _of your relationship is still_ _**stable** _ _, because family_ _**lava** _ _is a_ _**bedrock** _ _in life that i would hate to have_ _**ruptured** _ _._

Grillby’s response was almost instantaneous.  

_Sans._

He was pretty sure he’d be all right if Grillby broke up with him because of that text.  

_Sometimes, I really love you._

 


	2. Chapter 2

Grillby opened the door after only a few knocks.  His flame was lower than normal and his bathrobe, loosely tied, wilted on his body.  He held onto the doorframe like it was all that held him upright.  

“hey grillbz.”  Was there a way to say “you look bad” but make it a compliment? 

“…hello.”

Sans ducked under his arm and stepped into the apartment.  It was still hotter than normal, but it was mostly clean again.  There were twelve half-empty bottles of varying kinds of alcohol and two empty gallon tubs of hot sauce on the counter.  There was a pot boiling on the stove.  The smell that came off whatever was cooking hit Sans in the nose hole like a bag of bricks.  The heat was fine -– it was the smell that made him sweat.  

“that’s…somethin you’ve got cookin there, grillby,” Sans said, wiping away the liquid seeping from his eye sockets.  

“…it’s hers,” Grillby said.  He sat down on the couch.  Someone had put a sheet down and there were extra pillows.   “…Sans, I wanted to apologize.”  

His voice was quieter than normal, so Sans had to strain a little to hear him.  He sat down, still rubbing his face on his sleeve.  "nah. you were just looking out for me."  He patted Grillby’s knee. "should’ve caught that earlier; you just looked like hell.”

He still felt hotter to the touch than Sans was used to, but not dangerously so.  Sans looked around, eye sockets watering enough to blur his vision, looking around for Grillby's mom, Searily.  There weren’t a lot of places for her to be.

Grillby shook his head.  

“anyway, sorry about–” he jerked his thumb phlanges at the bedroom, where he assumed she was.  "how’s that going?"

"…it’s stable," he said.  

Sans laughed.  

The door to the bedroom opened and low but hard heels clacked on the wood floor.  Sans turned, slightly.  Grillby’s mother was wearing a light blue suit and no hat.  She had a towel tossed over one shoulder and was carrying a small stack of dirty dishes.

"hey,” he said.  

“Sans,” she said.  "Thank you for letting me know." 

"kind of a long trip to take on the spur of the moment.”  

“Yes,” she said.  She carried the dishes over to the sink.

“…I didn’t sound well on the phone,” Grillby said.  

“hate to break it to you, buddy, but you didn’t sound well in person, either.”  

Grillby sunk down on the couch, not enjoying the attention.  

She said something to Grillby, too fast for Sans to catch.  He nodded, miserably, and she picked up her purse and left the apartment.  

Sans looked at him, curious, and he said, “…she is going to pick up a few things.”  

“at least she seems to be _warming up_ to me.”  

“…it doesn’t matter what she thinks.”  Grillby sounded exhausted.  

“look, take this from an expert, grillbz.  we can talk about whatever later, but right now you’re looking more bone-tired than i am.”

“…i do feel better.”  

“you’re a bad liar, grillbz.”  He snatched one of the pillows and shifted to the end of the couch.  He put the pillow in his lap and patted it.  "i didn’t get a lot of sleep last night, so it’s time to catch up."  It might be tough to nod off with the way his eyes were watering, but he’d slept in worse circumstances.  

Grillby started to say something, but decided against it.  He lay down and rested his head on the pillow in Sans’ lap.  

Sans let his head fall back, closing his eyes.  "hey, just a quick question, though.”  

“…hm?”

“you ever get _real_ sick, what’s the plan, here?”

“…”

“i can give you tori’s number, if you don’t have it.  or one for any of the healers living around here.”

“…i don’t get sick that often.”

“sure.”

“…so you don’t have to worry.”  

“yeah. ok.  you’ll be healthy the rest of your life.”  He really hated that he _was_ worrying.  He’d pay for caring that much later.  

Grillby shifted, like he was going to get up.  "Stop."

"ok.”

“…you said we would talk _later_.”  He settled back down again.  

“yeah.  i said that, right.”  He tapped on the side of his skull.  "go to sleep, buddy."  

Grillby sighed.  He looked so weak, almost small, and he didn’t seem to have much choice about taking a nap.

Sans reached down and, without opening his eyes, rested his hand on the top of Grillby’s head.  He didn’t fall asleep immediately, himself.  He could tell when Grillby finally gave in and nodded off.

He should’ve known better.  It had been a few months and just a few dates scattered over that time, fit in whenever they both had a little extra time.  Sans shouldn’t care so much yet, but that was where dating a friend had messed him up.  He’d started out invested.

_Sometimes, I really love you._

He wasn’t the only one.  Sans hadn’t replied to that text, but he’d shown up two minutes later, so he hoped it hadn’t come across as a complete kiss-off.  He wasn’t sure Grillby was entirely with it enough to know what he was typing, anyway.  

He realized some time had passed when the door opened and he heard Searily’s heels on the floor.  He didn’t move.  She paused, said something under her breath, and walked with a little more care into the kitchen.  

Grillby twitched in his lap.  Sans was suddenly a lot colder.  He rubbed his forehead, not moving otherwise.

"……" said Searily.  

"You don’t have to do any of this,” Grillby said.  

“……”

“I’ll ask, but I don’t think he can eat that.”  He nudged Sans with his elbow.  "You’re awake."

"the _rest_ is history,” Sans mumbled.  He had been right on the edge of sleep, and now, pulled away from that, he felt hazy and still very tired. “tryin for some beauty sleep here, grillbz.”  

“…beauty is skin deep,” Grillby said.  

Sans opened one eye.  "you implyin something about my looks there?"

”…nothing I couldn’t say about myself."  He started and looked over Sans, at his mother.  He seemed to have forgotten she was there, for a minute.  "…anyway.  Are you staying for dinner?"

"sure.” He had some ketchup packets and half a candy bar in his pockets if dinner was poison.  

“Sans, even though I’ll be here?”  Searily asked.

“hey, that’s just spice in the dish,” Sans said.

“Flatterer.”  She didn’t sound annoyed, however, so he counted that as a win.  

Dinner conversation was stilted and awkward.  Sans still only got what Grillby’s mom said if he was paying very careful attention.  Grillby picked at his food and acted like the effort of eating was too much for him.  He also stiffened whenever his mother said anything, like he was anticipating an argument that she also seemed to be avoiding.

Sans tried to lighten the mood with a few jokes.  Searily only laughed at a couple, but he considered it another victory that she laughed at any of them.

She eventually moved back to the bedroom, after they were done eating and the dishes were put away.  

Sans asked why Grillby was stuck on the couch and Grillby just told him that the mattress was expensive and the couch wasn’t.  He still looked barely awake.  

“i should be heading out.  paps’ll want an update and i’m meeting tori early for breakfast.”  He shuffled over and considered his options for saying goodbye.  He went in for a hug and as he pulled away from it, Grillby suddenly tightened his grip and held on.  Sans went still, not sure what was happening.  

“uh, i can stick around.”  

Grillby let go and pushed him away.  He wasn’t really looking at anything. “…I’m not acting like myself.”

“well, if not-you just wants another hug, i’ve got more to spare.”  

That got a small smile out of him.  "No.  You could catch this."

"probably not.”  Well, if he could, he was already going to get it.  It didn’t matter that much.  He had people who could look after him, if that happened.  He gave Grillby another hug, which he accepted easily, for the road.  

“take care of yourself.”

“…good night, Sans.”  

 

–-

 

Sans stopped by the next day with a box of donuts and a bottle of hot sauce for mom.  He was sure she liked other things, but as a fellow condiment fan, he thought she might appreciate it.  

Grillby gave him a quick kiss when he walked in, apparently no longer worried about spreading his illness.  

Searily wasn’t around, so the two of them split the donuts and watched TV.  Grillby put his arm around Sans’ shoulders and few minutes into the show, Sans felt a warm kiss on his cheek, and then another on his neck.

“feelin better today, grillbz?”  

“…very.”

Sans turned to say something and a smooch landed right above his mouth.  Grillby wrapped his arms around him and kissed his way back down to Sans’ neck.  Then, he stopped.  He pressed his face against Sans’ shoulder and stayed like that.  

“did that wipe you out?”  

Grillby shook his head.  He held on a little tighter.

This was weirder than Grillby behind a fire barrier in the middle of his bedroom.  This was weirder than Grillby without his glasses.  

Sans felt him take a deep breath and slowly let it out.  He patted Grillby on the back, confused.  

“…”  Grillby started to say something.

Sans let his hand rest on Grillby’s back.  "yeah?"

"…I…"  he turned his head, so his mouth was against Sans’ neck.  Grillby’s burning hot breath tickled the side of his spinal column.  "…I realized that I would be upset if I could not touch you." 

Sans closed his eyes.  His soul felt warm, suddenly.  "okay.  i get it.”  His hand tightened, almost involuntarily, on the soft material of Grillby’s robe.  

Grillby stayed quiet.

“well you lucked out.  today there’s a deal on hugs.  all you want, for nothing.”

His laugh was another warm burst of air against Sans’ neck.  He eventually pulled away, and Sans noticed that he was burning a little brighter than normal.  His face was tinged with blue.  

“you look kinda hot under the collar.”  

He turned an even brighter shade of blue, but he rallied.  "…well. Maybe because I _am_.  Hot.  Under the collar."  

"oh man.  oh _man_.”  Sans started to laugh.  He really loved Grillby sometimes.  "i’d kiss you for that one, if i had lips."

 

\--

 

By the time Grillby’s mother got back from her errand, Sans was sitting alone on the couch, flipping through an old album he’d found while rifling through Grillby’s possessions.  He had found some high school pictures and was having a pretty good laugh at the school uniform.  

“hey.”

“Sans,” Searily said.  "Is he in his room?"

"nah.  went down to check on something,” Sans said.  He flipped to another page.  

“He’s working?”  

“he’s not opening the bar, but, yeah.”  

Searily, for a second, looked exactly like Grillby did when he was annoyed.  Sans wondered if she was going to go down to the restaurant and drag Grillby back.  "You let him?"  

"uh, yeah.”  Sure, he’d thought that Grillby should stick around upstairs, get some more sleep, but it wasn’t like it was a long trip. He’d check on him if it seemed like it was taking too long.

She huffed, clearly frustrated.  She started to pace around the living room.

He looked down at the album, turning back to a family picture with her and Grillby and Grillby’s siblings.  Searily looked a lot younger, though he wasn’t sure if he could actually tell that, or if she just looked younger because of how small Grillby was.  If there was another parent involved, Sans had yet to run across their image. 

“if he’s not back up in ten, i’ll see what’s up,” Sans said.  He’d probably find him cleaning the counter.

She shook her head.  "My son is…"  She briefly flared up and then went back to pacing.

"yep.”

“I don’t think you know how sick he was,” she said.  

“probably not.”  

To his surprise, she finished her pacing and sat down on the other end of the couch.  

“kind’ve tough, having one of your kids living so far away.”  He wondered if she wished Grillby had set up his restaurant a little closer to where she and the other fire monsters settled down.  

“He’s normally the son I don’t have to worry about,” she said.  

“yeah. i can see that.  he takes pretty good care of himself.”  Grillby worked too hard, but not to the point where he didn’t eat or regularly skipped sleep.  

“But, sometimes, he’s…”  Once again, she seemed to falter at outright insulting her own kid.

“a bonehead?”  

“ _Stubborn_ ,” she hissed.  She sounded like a teakettle right before it started to whistle.  

“yep.”

Grillby was a guy who had to have some control issues, Sans figured.  He was pretty careful, all the time, and getting sick had made it so it didn’t matter how careful he was.  

“Maybe it’s for the best he’s seeing someone with so much spare time.”  She looked at Sans.   He had trouble reading her expression.  

He snorted.  "glad you’re lighting on to all my bone-afide good points."  

She sighed.  

"well, if it helps, he’s got some monster keeping an eye socket on him,” he said, winking.  "and i’d never say it to grillbz, if i was you, but that monster knows his mom’s number if he gets that sick again." 

He still couldn’t read her expression.  She said, "I’ll give you some other numbers.  If you can’t reach me, call one of them.”

Grillby was really getting himself in trouble, not coming back upstairs.

“sure.”  He pulled out his cell phone and she sent him the contact information for some other relatives.  "hey, while we’re talking behind his back, i have a quick question."

"Yes?”

He tapped the album.  "has everyone he’s dated been a lot shorter?"

She coughed and covered her face.  "…as far as I know." 

"and what’s the deal with–”  He heard the door start to open and continued, smoothly  "–calling it ‘new hotland?’  i didn’t think the king was involved in naming towns anymore."  He’d have to solve the mystery of some of the pictures in Grillby’s album another time.  

Searily didn’t bother to answer his question.  When Grillby walked in, she went right over to him.  She said a few things, and Sans barely caught any of it.

"I wasn’t that long,” Grillby said, annoyed.  

They had a brief argument that Sans only understood half of, and then Searily broke off in the middle of she was saying and went into Grillby’s bedroom, closing the door behind her.  

“she’s pretty worried,” Sans said.  

“…i know.  It doesn’t justify some of the things she has said, or done.”

“yeah, i don’t know the whole story.  but when we were talking about you behind your back, we agreed that you should’ve called a doctor instead of just riding it out.  and now you’re barely better but trying to work.”  He shrugged.  "but you’ll do what you want."  

"I will.”  He sat down right next to Sans and took the album out of his hands, flipping through a few pages.  "So will you.  I am not going to hear the end of this, am I?“  

"can’t really say.”  

Grillby put his arm around Sans’ shoulders, and Sans looked up at him in surprise.  

“bar still intact?”

“Everything’s in order.”

After a while, Grillby sighed, set down the album, and got up off the couch.  He was looking at the door to his bedroom like it had personally insulted him, but he took a few steps towards it, anyway.

“gonna go patch things up?”

“…I’m grateful she came by, but she has never really apologized for…a number of things.”  Grillby carefully adjusted his glasses and tugged his sleeves so that they were even.  "It’s tiresome always being the bigger person."  

Sans coughed.  "and here i was thinking you liked that.”  

Grillby tipped his head, confused, trying to figure out the joke.  Sans gestured at the album.    Grillby continued to not get it for a few seconds and then his color started to change.  

“…I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, dragging up every bit of dignity that he could muster.  

“sure you don’t.”  

Maybe he should feel guilty about changing the subject when Grillby was talking about something so personal, but Grillby pretty quickly found the nerve after that to go and talk to his mom.  If only just so he could get away from Sans.  

So it worked out, he figured.    

 

–-

 

The clouds opened up and rained poured down late in the morning the day Grillby reopened the bar.  

Sans swung by right in time to catch him flipping the sign around to “open.”  Sans walked in and had only let two drops of rain hit the tile before Grillby used fire magic to dry him off.  

Grillby still looked subdued, and he was lacking his usual energy as he walked to and from the kitchen to grab Sans’ burger, but there had been no stopping him from reopening the bar.  Sans supposed he was losing a lot of money, not being open, but he was also pretty sure that was only a small part of why he needed to get back to work.  

Grillby visibly brightened when one of the lunch regulars came in.  The customer sat down in the bar stool next to Sans and complained about the quality of the other restaurants in the area while Grillby was off cooking in the kitchen.  

“Why’d it close?  I know a place last month that closed for a couple weeks because of a pipe leak.”

Sans nodded at the kitchen.  "he’s the only cook, so the place has to close down when he does.“  

Sans spent most of the afternoon by the bar, slowly chewing his ketchup-soaked french fries and telling himself he wasn’t there to keep an eye on Grillby.  He just usually ate pretty slow.  

Eventually, the fries got cold and soggy, so he finished them off and left.  He was back for dinner, though, and he hung around until closing.  Grillby looked completely wiped out.  

As Grillby locked up, he said, ”…you didn’t need to stay here all day.“  

"that’s not that weird for me.”  

“…no.”  He turned around and leaned back, against the door.  "…i hope you aren’t disappointed.  I didn’t faint once.  It was a waste of your time."

"grillbz, like i said.  i always have time for you.”  He hopped down from his bar stool and walked over to Grillby.  "here."  He pulled a bottle of thyme out of his pocket and handed it over.  

Grillby took it, read the label, and then stared at Sans, completely expressionless.  For a second, Sans was pretty sure years in the future he would be reminiscing about how they used to date, like: "remember how you dumped me over that herb joke?”

But Grillby just huffed and shook his head.  "…how long have you been carrying this around?"  

"can’t tell you all my secrets, grillbz.”  

He put the jar in his pocket.  Sans was going to have to pick up another one, because now he’d committed to the joke, long term.

Not just to the joke, apparently.  Grillby kissed him.  

They could hear the rain coming down hard outside.  Sans decided to wait with him, until it quit pouring.  

The rain went on for a long time.  Sans could have taken them on a shortcut, even suggested it, but Grillby wasn’t in a hurry to get back to the apartment he’d been stuck in for days.  Sans made some jokes about cabin fever and Grillby cooked himself a sandwich in the restaurant kitchen instead of cooking upstairs.  

So it was late by the time Sans walked Grillby back to his apartment.  It seemed a little cold and empty inside, with Grillby’s mom gone and no huge foul-smelling pot on the stove.  

“…do you want to just sleep here?” Grillby asked, like it wasn’t just a few steps for Sans to get back home.  

“on the couch?”  He’d nodded off there enough times, the last few months.

“…no.”

Sans looked away.  "sure.  bed’s gotta be better than that couch."  He took off his coat and tossed it onto the sofa.  

They didn’t waste a lot of time hanging around the living room.  Grillby was worn out and Sans was always tired.

This was his formal introduction to Grillby’s bedroom.  It looked more like what he expected than what he’d seen before -– the bed was made and there were no plates or other clutter.  Sans lived with Papyrus and was used to neat, but at least his brother's room showed signs that Papyrus spent time in there.  He had his action figures and a shelf full of books.  Grillby’s room was just a room he happened to sleep in.  There weren’t even any pictures on the walls.  

Grillby caught him glancing at the patch on the floor where Grillby had set up his barrier.  

"…I’m sorry.  If I upset you."  

"it’s fine.”  That was at least the third time Grillby had apologized for being sick and irritable, and it was starting to get on Sans’ nerves.  

“I never want to hurt you.”  

He didn’t know how to tell Grillby that if they kept on the track they were on, Sans was going to end up hurt no matter what.  He was starting to understand what he’d signed up for.  

“yeah.”  Sans kicked off his slippers.  "i get it.  i trust you.  now, i’m going to find out if you wasted your money on this bed."  

It took them both two minutes to fall asleep.  It turned out Grillby’s chest was a pretty warm pillow.  


End file.
